Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

Summary: "Are you here to break me up again, or are you here to piece me back together?"

Lyrics: Video Games by Lana Del Rey

A/N: *Appears holding a bunch of candy, lollipops, marshmallows and shit* Look, sorry I made some of you sad throughout this fic, in my defense, I never planned on writing semi-angst in the first place. I wanted to do a deeper insight on their potential relationship and it just happened to be a ball of depressive crap. So here, accept this as a peace offering *hands candy*

'I've got a short epilogue' I said. Holy jeez I swear what I had was short and sweet but then some people asked me for the morning after scene and some heart-wrenching crap came out. I'M SORRY THIS IS SUPER LATE TOO.

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—Heaven is a place on earth with you

Tell me all the things you wanna do

I heard that you like the bad girls

Honey, is that true?

It's better than I ever even knew—

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A Perfect Storm

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When she wakes up next morning, he's not there beside her, and she panics.

Was it just a dream, an illusion due to emotional exhaustion?

Before she lets her mind wander deeper down that road, a sense of calm takes over.

This place is familiar.

But it's not the same dull white of her bedroom's walls. It's a mix of maroon with brown accents and wooden shelves that she knows so well. It's a bed loaded with warm blankets, a familiar scent all over her skin, and that long lost sense of belonging that comes attached to him.

She's home.

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They sit in awkward silence, furtive looks thrown across the kitchen counter where breakfast is set for two.

It's unsettling —eerie in some sort of way— and she feels as if the small distance that separates them might as well be galaxies apart.

(Time and space, they don't appear to be working properly in this room)

There's a subtle clunking sound of the spoon hitting against his cereal bowl as he puts it down and breaks the silence, "What are we, Juvia-chan?"

Her gaze is fixed upon the metal fork grasped between her fingers, a small frown creasing her brows. He asked a very specific question, one that should be quite easy to answer.

What are they? She repeats the question to herself. But she knows it goes way beyond acquaintances, comrades, friends or lovers—
He's a lighthouse keeper guiding her through dark tides, and she's the captain of a lone lost boat trapped in the midst of a sea storm.

They are an unbalanced team, an unfair trade she's not sure he will be willing to take again.

How do you even attempt to put that into words?

"Please don't say— don't say something like 'we're just humans'. That's not what I'm asking you. I know the implications of being human includes the fact that we're bound to make the same mistakes over and over until we learn not to fall into the same hole again. The problem with me is, I keep crawling back to it… I keep crawling back to you. I'm not gonna lie and tell you that I'm big enough to love you for your flaws— That'd be blatant lying. I honestly hate you half of the time, I hate you and your indecision and your lying to yourself and dragging my heart on the floor in the process. But I love you twice the same, and that's something I tried very hard not to.

You don't understand… or at least you don't care that you're stepping on me, and it hurts. To be completely honest with you, I don't know if I can go through this all over again.

Life without you, it's not impossible. It may be a colorblind and a single-flavored monotony, but it's manageable. And I think it's because I spent so much time building my life around you that I lost my center once you walked away. But that doesn't mean I cannot function: all I have to do is find a new purpose and redirect myself to it. I have yet to find one, true; but eventually, I know I will. The thing is, I can live without you. I didn't die as I thought I would, and I didn't fall apart because honestly, you were never the one who held me in one piece. You broke me bad, Juvia-chan, but I managed to pick up the shreds on my own.

The question now is, are you here to break me up again, or are you here to piece me back together?"

"I didn't—" She paused. But damn, how could she possibly respond to that? What is one supposed to say to a hate confession? No matter what came out of her lips, it'd end up being a lame excuse like, "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"That doesn't change the fact that you did, and I'm tired of you thinking that my pain doesn't matter because you can't feel it."

The half-smile on his lips is bitter, and that rubs her the wrong way. If this is a competition of who had it worst, two can play that game.

"It wasn't a walk on a park for me either, just so you know." She snaps, smashing her fork against her scrambled eggs with unnecessary force.

"How was it, then?" He asks calmly, curious stare fixed on her as if they were discussing the morning weather and not six months of living hell.

She's not good with words— she's terrible at I love you's and I missed you so's or overall sentimental demonstrations, but he's asking all the right questions that she's bound to respond wrong, and not because she doesn't feel that way, but because she's terrified of her own answer.

"I missed you. Us. This thing that we had." She adds pressure to her fork and it's quite a miracle that the porcelain plate underneath it is not cracking open, because she's channeling all her fears and mortification towards it. "I know I fucked up, and that's probably because I am fucked up myself. I'm broken and I told you that. But you said you'd pick me up… and now your hands are bleeding.

—I'm so sorry that you're bleeding too—

I'm sorry that I hurt you, I'm sorry that I don't have an answer for your question because I don't know how to fix myself, or fix you, or whatever we are supposed to be.

You… You are so confusing, did you know that? Sometimes I wonder why do you even like me anyway? And I wonder when I'm going to cease being an adventure and become a burden to you.

Are you ever going to see that, if you don't already know?

You say you hate me, yet you stay. I guess it's the same for me in a weird kinda way. I hate you because you stand for everything that I don't want yet you make me want you. Like, the fucking irony of that. I didn't ask for this —I didn't ask for you to come over and shit all over my common sense—

You make me stupid. You make me so weak and dependent of you it's pathetic, and I hate it.

You really make a mess of me. You make me a fucking coward.

This— You, us— it makes no sense, and it terrifies me.

I don't recognize the person I become when I'm with you, but I don't' want to be the person I am when I'm without you.

I'm not as… eloquent as you are. I suck at pretty words and you know that, but I heart you. And I'm sorry if that's not enough. I'm sorry if it's too late and this doesn't even answer your q—"

The pad of his finger is pressing lightly over her lips and the words die before they have a chance to be spoken.

"Shh..." He hushes her, making her blink in surprise. "You talk too much, Juvia-chan."

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They burn into oblivion as their lips connect, cold breakfast lying forgotten on the table.

.

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They find a way back to each other with the easiness of imprinted memory, a feeling as familiar as repeating the steps of an old dance or singing along a childhood lullaby —it really comes as second nature, like finding the balance on a riding bike or keeping your head over water,

—Once you learn, you never truly forget.

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They're a tangle of intertwined hands and roaming fingers, a mix of marked fingerprints, faint bruises and light scratches lingering on pale skin. They're choked laughter, soft moans and whispered words in between breaths.

She's picture perfect: messy blue curls sprawled on his pillow and porcelain skin glistering with a thin sheen of sweat against the blue sea of his mattress. Her eyes are clouded, chest panting softly and his name on her quivering lips making his heart flutter as his warm breath draw goosebumps all over her skin. There's an expression of quiet content framing her face as she holds his gaze, lips swollen from friction and rosy cheeks. She cups his cheeks between her warm hands, her soft fingers caressing his flushed skin tenderly before trailing up to cover his eyes shut, voice small and tentative as she whispers three words for only him to hear.

I love you.

With a wide smile on his face, he pulls her hands away and places a gentle kiss on her open palm, heart swelling with raw affection.

I love you too.

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They love slow like lazy Sunday afternoons and deep like long winter nights, burning with the same quiet intensity of starry skies at midnight.

It feels so easy, like bending grass in the summer breeze, like dandelions falling apart in a gust of wind and sandust dancing in a whirlwind. It's the feeling of light rain hitting on a window pane and falling snow on Christmas morning —the feeling of pieces falling into place, of reaching harbor after drifting lost and finding a place to call home. .

.

Slowly, they find a way to keep fear at bay from crawling back into their hearts.

He drags her into the guild by the hand one day, and she's a blushing mess throwing murderous looks to whoever dares ask about it. When their comrades pretend to forget that they've been avoiding each other for the last half year, she knows what true friends are made of.

She doesn't remember when she stopped caring about the smartass comments and the knowing looks, when she got over her PDA-phobia and started seeking for the warmth of his fingers to wrap around hers in a crowded room.

.

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She slays him at playing poker but loses miserably at Mario Kart. He mocks and laughs at her for her lack of patience and says her downfall is being too greedy. She tosses the controller away and shows her greedy with a kiss.

Some weekends Natsu and Lucy would come over and they'd play cards against humanity while chewing on pizza and beer.

When he gets jealous at her relationship with Gajeel, she has to remember him for the millionth time that they are childhood friends and she's not into incest, she's into him. So after her friend starts dating Levy in an unpredicted turn of events, they make of weekend gatherings a common thing.

Her apartment is piling up dust and she knows she's spending unnecessary money every month by keeping it. She never stays there anymore —his closet is stuffed with her clothes and she's successfully taken over a whole cabinet in his bathroom— she's all over his place, their place.

One day, he asks her to move in, and she's drawn into sudden realization.

He's right. Maybe she should.

Hell, maybe she should hold on to him and never let go. Maybe she should marry him and have twenty kids.

Maybe, but for the time being, just moving in sounds good.

Yeah, it sounds really good.

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Fin.

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—They say that the world was built for two

Only worth living if somebody is loving you,

Baby now you do—

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A/N: *Wails and cries* omfg I actually finished a multichap! This is actually the first time ever and my first excuse of a fic was like 16 chapters long, hahahaha.

Okay but let's pretend that I didn't rush this. Let's pretend it's a good ending, shhhh.

Thanks from the bottom of my black withered cold heart to everybody who took the time to review this fic. You are the reason why this is complete, honestly. I don't think I've ever been so emotionally invested in one story, and the feedback I got throughout really warmed my soul. You guys rock.

Because you guys are beyond awesome, I'm gonna write a how they met fic because some people asked me about their past in reviews from previous chapters (see? I do listen to reviews, that's why you should send them *wink wink*).

This verse in particular is finished, but if you are edo thirsty you can check on my other fics or follow me as an author (please don't follow this story, it's FINISHED. If you follow but don't review I'm gonna be utterly upset tbh.)

So there, thanks for your support and spread the edo Gruvia love ^^